Raven's Bluff

New worlds, new adventures

Paluda? Pagoda? Who cares

Session2

9

FEB/12

>found written in a leather-bound diary, travel worn and ink smudged. The text picks up from the prior page<

.. The fight was fierce, yet we survived the druid’s nasty little scythe-like tree, and its guardians. There were a few minor injuries, but nothing a little magical healing couldn’t take care of.
It was at this point the group decided to loot the lair of its treasure, an action I fully encouraged and supported. We pulled up a number of chests, presumably the bandit’s payoffs for the druid’s services, along with the harvest of a number of floral ingredients that could prove useful later. The small sleep-inducing flowers gave us a few problems initially, and we left two rooms for later: a room with fungus that had tentacles like whips, and a room full of beautiful, silvery flowers that bespoke danger in their allure. The group felt it prudent to move onward, in hopes of alluding the quill-spined Paluda.
As the remains of the group – composed of the bard, the magister, and myself – returned with our valuable haul, a creature of pure hatred tried to block our path. Its autumnal leaves and frosty aura were overwhelming, and after an initial volley, a few of us ran out the door in terror. Thankfully it was dispatched once the group outside heard the noise.
I still have a black eye where that twice-damned barbarian punched me though. Magical fear is nothing to scoff at. Note to self, need to find magic to stop this from happening again.
Just as we loaded the wagon, and began to pull out, three basilisks entered the clearing, running past. A fierce roar was heard in the woods behind us, and the Paluda itself crawled over the hillside. It was a beast with a weakness that we knew of, it’s tail.
Without waiting for more of a plan, the barbarian made for the treeline, hoping to circle it. The rest of us provided ample distraction for the beast as he lept from the copse of trees behind the creature, viciously swinging his great sword to sever its tail. Blood fountained, and he found himself riding the pseudo-dragon’s quills. How he is still a man, I don’t know. I guess the legends about barbarian’s ice-cold rocks are true?
The beast bled out in about a minute, harming us but leaving no lasting damage. Even the famed poison of the beast proved that we can’t always trust legends to assess our situation.
A quarter of a day’s walk, following the trail of devastation, we found a very nice treasure that the Paluda had horded. Ale all around when we get back into town.
Now, we’re riding back to town, the bandit’s supply of poisons assuredly gone. In this, and in
wealth, the mission was a success. It will fund the next step in the plan.
…

>in a hasty scrawl at the bottom of the page, another quick note is found<
Watch the skies.
Strange wagon just moved past us, being pulled by huge, grey beasts. I have a hunch we’ll see this again.